


crystaline

by koteosa



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: It's a soulmate AU with my ocs, don't @ meThis is old (from NaNoWriMo last year) but I edited it a little





	crystaline

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know who these characters are at all, here you go: https://toyhou.se/koteosa  
> I barely explain what they look like so you're gonna wanna look at the pictures at least
> 
> Maybe 40% of this wasn't revised so it might noticably dip in quality at some point, listen rewriting forty pages of work is hard and I'm depressed

It was late at night. Serving tables in white cloths were arranged neatly along the outskirts of the room, wall lighting dimmed to create a warm and romantic atmosphere. A golden, glistening chandelier hung over the center of the room, adding to the illusion that one was entering a highbrow celebrity party rather than a university auditorium, sometimes dancehall. Servers in fancy suits roamed the area with serving trays of wine.

At the top of the auditorium was a stage. The university headmaster stood before the microphone stand, looking out on the arguably neatly arranged crowd of students. She brushes her lightly graying hair out of her eyes, adjusting her suit tie before addressing the crowd.

Every four years, her university held an event in their auditorium for those in the younger age range; a highly formal event, which was what brought each student in dressed to the nines. It was considered an important time in anybody’s life, and as such it was held in many places all throughout the world, attendance mandatory. Her university in particular had just the right funding to afford such a thing, and, being a romantic herself, she couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to hold an event of her own.

While she gave her speech, longwinded and flowery as it was, Kyouya tuned out, opting instead to survey the people around him. Everyone had been given a rectangular box upon entry, a box containing a specialized necklace designed to identify a person’s soulmate—their other half. In close proximity, it would change color, reflecting their soulmate’s eyes.

It was all according to some sort of magic he knew nothing about; all he really knew was that everyone’s necklace was individualized according to some type of prediction. Why they couldn’t just give him a name and a picture and let him relax in his dorm for the night was beyond him.

Kyouya sighs for the fiftieth time that night before turning to his brother. Kyou also isn’t paying attention to the speech, too busy fiddling with his box. Raising an eyebrow, Kyouya shakes his head; he’d immediately stashed his box in the inner pocket of his kimono, out of sight and out of mind. Under his black fur shawl, one could hardly tell it was there at all.

Looking over at Kyou only served as a reminder as to how different the two brothers truly were. While Kyouya went fully formal in his stylized designer kimono and signature moon hairpin, hair braided and pulled into a tight bun, Kyou looked ready for some type of punk music video. Even if he _was_ in a yukata, the crisscross straps of his black turtleneck displayed between the parted robes would hardly qualify for formal attire normally, nor would a pair of belted platform boots. He hadn’t even bothered to style his hair beyond some black clips keeping his fringes out of his eyes.

Kyouya returns to scanning the room, dark eyes raking over a selection of suits, dresses, and traditional wear, all worn by students with, in his opinion, no distinguishing characteristics. Yet he could easily identify a multitude of people that were sure to make his brother’s necklace light up in seconds; beautiful, confident women with large busts and powerful attitudes, alongside the tall, dark and lanky pretty boys with soft hair.

Too easy.

“What’s up?” Kyou stage-whispers from Kyouya’s right. Kyouya spares him a sideways glance, instantly spotting the impish grin on his brother’s face. “Checking out your options?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Kyouya groans. Turning away, he resists the urge to bite his thumbnail out of frustration. “I have better things to do than waste my time on magical nonsense.”

Throwing a hand over his heart dramatically, Kyou speaks in a purposefully terrible impersonation of his elder brother. “Oh no, I’m Kyouya, I get to fuck a really hot guy every night for the rest of my life, my life is so hard, woe is me, etc.”

“I’ve yet to see anyone that meets that criteria,” Kyouya gripes.

Shrugging, Kyou looks over at his brother impassively. “Be less picky,” he says.

Kyouya scoffs, turning to Kyou with a glare. “Are you kidding? I can’t just _lower my standards_ ,” he says sharply. Kyou merely rolls his eyes like he’s heard it all before.

“What I _mean_ is, stop worrying so much. If there was no one good here, then you wouldn’t have even been invited.” Averting his eyes, Kyouya frowns, unable to find a fault in this logic. “Just, chill out, drink some wine, there’s free food and I’ve heard there’ll be a live band, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyouya sighs dismissively, staring down at his heeled boots.

The headmaster wraps up her speech, prompting everyone to open their boxes and don their necklaces. Kyouya glances around, taking in the glassy crystal pendants hanging from each necklace. Some immediately change color upon being worn, resulting in a cacophony of excited cries and hugging, causing Kyouya to cringe. He looks over at Kyou.

Predictably, Kyou hadn’t hesitated for even a second in tearing open his box. Unpredictably, he hasn’t taken it out or worn it yet. Rather, he stares inside with a look of surprise, as if something _other_ than magic jewelry lay inside.

“What?” Kyouya asks, frowning as he leans closer to try and get a look inside. However, he quickly finds he doesn’t have to, as Kyou takes that moment to lift the silver chain from its resting place, revealing a necklace with several beads separating a matching set of two gems. In disbelief, the twins stare at the crystals, dumbfounded.

“Looks like some old bag saw some _threesomes_ in my future,” Kyou brags, incredibly smug. Kyouya groans in annoyance, turning away and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“ _I’m_ getting double laid,” Kyou says, resulting in a prolonged groan of irritation from his twin. “Open yours, too,” Kyou enthusiastically prompts. “I wanna put ours on at the same time.”

Kyouya reaches under his shawl and kimono, digging past his cellphone and wallet for the slim jewelry box. Once he has it in his hands, he glares at it, taking in the satin ribbon and reflective casing. Upon further peer pressure, despite his snapping at Kyou to calm down and stop bouncing, he carefully removes the ribbon, lifting the lid off the box.

“Just one, huh,” Kyou comments from his spot standing excessively far into Kyouya’s personal space. Kyouya looks unamused, swatting Kyou away like a particularly annoying bug.

“Like I have the energy for more,” Kyouya drones.

“Let’s put ‘em on,” Kyou urges. Frowning, Kyouya turns from his brother to his necklace, anxiety tightening his chest like a vice. Exhaling deeply, he pulls the necklace on over his head, mindful of his hair bun, while Kyou mimics his actions. Kyouya stares straight ahead, ignoring his pendant, shoulders tense as he waits for Kyou to say something.

“Huh,” Kyou says. “Was kinda hoping they’d be right next to me or something.” Turning toward him, Kyouya’s eyes focus directly on Kyou’s pendants, still as clear and glassy as before. They make eye contact, Kyou lowering his eyes moments later. “Ooo, it’s _blue_ ,” Kyou coos.

Kyouya’s eyes snap down to his necklace in shock, only to find a clear pendant staring back at him. Unamused, he raises an eyebrow at Kyou. Snickering behind his hand, Kyou grins devilishly at Kyouya despite the dangerous look on his brother’s face.

Sighing, Kyouya clicks his tongue. “I’m going to kill you,” he rasps with a deadly seriousness. Kyou takes a step back.

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Kyou exclaims, darting excitedly off in a random direction, leaving Kyouya alone in the center of the auditorium.

Crossing his arms with a sigh, he searches the room for somewhere to hide. Inspecting the food tables in search of one with something edible, he doesn’t notice the approach of his pink-haired friend until the man’s arms are already wrapped around his waist.

“There you are, darling,” Willow purrs, pressing himself into Kyouya’s back.

“Hello, Willow,” Kyouya drones, bored, pretending not to notice the invasion of his personal space. Willow huffs, annoyed at the lack of reaction, and circles around to Kyouya’s front. He crosses one arm around his torso, free hand propped up under his chin, and regards Kyouya with a scrutinizing stare. Kyouya returns the look with a bored expression.

“Hmm… still clear, I see,” Willow comments, tone devoid of any disappointment. Quickly raking his eyes down Kyouya’s lanky form with an amused smile, he cocks a hip to the site, holding up his black dress and angling his hand down over his partially exposed chest. He turns his head to the side, further exposing his neck and black rose earrings, hair pinned to the opposite side. “What do you think?”

“It’s expected,” Kyouya says, disinterested, looking away after a brief once-over. Willow scoffs, offended.

“You bitch,” Willow says, voice devoid of malice. He stops posing, returning to crossing one arm with his legs decently far apart, left leg exposed through the slit in his dress, revealing a thigh-high sock connected to a garter belt.

Kyouya sighs, “Surprised to see you without a glass in your hand.”

“Nonsense, darling. I need you there to taste it for me,” Willow says.

Together, they wander off, tracking down a serving tray of red wine and taking a glass each. They retire to a nearby vegan serving table, monopolizing the area in order to drink in peace. Kyouya munches on a loaf of almond bread between sips to maintain his sobriety; meanwhile, Willow sucks down his drink like he’s dying.

They gaze out on the crowd of people, passing aesthetic judgments amongst each other despite the glares they receive from nearby students for doing so. Whereas Willow rates several guests in the category of people-he-wouldn’t-kick-out-of-bed, Kyouya grows immediately bored of every man in the vicinity.

Willow hums, staring down at his empty glass. “Well, darling, since I’ve crossed you off the list, I should get to looking,” he says, pushing himself up off the table. Disinterested, Kyouya takes a sip of his drink, nodding slowly in understanding. Suddenly, Willow plants a kiss to Kyouya’s cheek, winking as he says, “Chao, darling,” wandering off with his empty glass.

Grimacing, Kyouya rubs his face in hopes of cleaning up any possible lipstick stains.

\- ♡ -

Piling every possible sweet onto his tray, Kyou amasses a sugary pile of cookies, cupcakes, and candies. He considered it a sample tray—one of everything—despite clearly avoiding certain things, namely the bran muffins. Ignoring the appalled looks of everyone nearby, he proudly carries his spoils to the nearest empty dining table and begins to dig in.

Stuffing several randomly colored gumdrops into his mouth, he looks out on the dancehall for potential partners. Every flirtation attempt so far had been met with annoyed glares and empty pendants; even his winking at passersby was met with horrible failure. He was starting to think there had to be a better way to do this, some sort of _sign_ or _cue_ or _something_ …

Yet, nothing came to him. So he sat, alone, amongst the dining tables that hardly anybody was at. The majority of the students were busy mingling or munching on something or other at one of the food tables, not quite ready to settle down anywhere. As much as he’d love to be among them, the desserts were going fast and he wasn’t sure he’d get another opportunity like this. Besides, there was _hours_ left to be meeting people.

Thinking that, at least _one_ of his soulmates was sure to appreciate sweets as much as he did, he keeps a watchful eye on the dessert table. While watching a girl in a frilly dress stuff sweets into her mouth like she’d never eaten anything before in her life, Kyou drifts off, thinking on all the things he could do with a soulmate. He begins to imagine himself, together with a mystery person, covered in flour and frosting, watching a cake rise in the oven.

He snaps out of his daydream at the sound of a nearby voice.

“The chocolate ruins the sweetness _entirely_ ,” argues a masculine voice.

Over at the dessert table, a tall man in a sleek black high-collar dress stands towering over his pink-haired friend, each of them holding a tray with different mini cakes on them. The shorter of the two holds a strawberry coated in milk chocolate up to his mouth, staring up at his friend with boredom in his brown eyes. Kyou glances down at the man’s necklace—yep, definitely friends.

“Tastes fine to me,” the shorter of the two says while munching on his strawberry treat, causing the taller man to shake his head in disbelief.

Kyou rakes his eyes down the taller man’s form—sleek, elegant, with long legs and heeled shoes. He remains facing away, talking about something or other as he arranges various desserts on his tray. Absentmindedly nibbling away at a mint cookie, Kyou gives the mystery man his full attention.

Suddenly, the man turns to his right, looking over a tray of dessert rolls, and Kyou’s breath catches in his throat. The man is beautiful; stunning, even. Kyou’s cookie is quickly forgotten in favor of studying his features as if there’d be a test on it later, eyes eventually tearing themselves away in time to catch a glimpse of his pendant, and unless Kyou’s eyes were betraying him, the crystal was a dull, dim shade of violet. Looking down at his own necklace reveals a similarly borderline-opaque shade of blue.

He shoots out of his chair, taking off for the dessert table, yet stopping a few feet away as he realizes _he has_ _no idea at all how to approach this_. Looking up, he watches as the man pops a pink gumdrop into his mouth, causing Kyou to nearly salivate over how soft and kissable his lips look. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Kyou forces himself to stand tall and head for the table as casually as possible.

“Hey, Vis, was your gem always, uh… uhhhhhhhh,” the pink-haired man trails off, gesturing to his friend’s chest with panic in his wide brown eyes. The taller man looks down at his chest at the same time Kyou slams a hand down on the table behind him much harder than anticipated, startling everyone nearby.

The man whirls around, icy blue eyes meeting purple, and for a moment it feels as though everything else fades away, leaving the two boys suspended in time. Up close, Kyou can see the smooth porcelain of the man’s skin, the way his sharp eyes curl up into the most flawless cats eye makeup Kyou has ever seen, his lips glossy and pink.

“Uh,” Kyou chokes out, breaking the illusion. He swallows hard, his throat painfully dry. “H-Hey!” He exclaims, a little louder than intended as he leans sideways on the table and winks. The man smiles, somewhere between amused and confused. “F-Fancy meeting you here!” _Wait, no, wrong line_ —

The man laughs, a beautiful melody that Kyou feels he hardly even deserves to hear. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says.

Kyou snaps his fingers, “I can fix that!” Changing position to stand a bit closer, he forces a coy, yet devious grin and introduces himself. Amused, the man returns with a smile of his own. He covers his mouth slightly as he laughs and Kyou notices a black stud piercing on the side of his mouth, like a beauty mark. His eyes seem to sparkle as he says,

“My name is Yun. But, you can call me Visual.”

\- ♡ -

Seconds away from chugging the entire glass of wine, Kyouya takes a sip, staring out on the dancehall with cold, dead eyes. While Willow had been back a few times, it was always to drunkenly gripe about something or other while Kyouya forced him to eat some bread to sober up.

Predictably, he was alone, at the vegan food table that hardly anyone had any interest in. He alternated between drinking and eating bread to pass the time while waiting for a single person of interest in step into his radar. From what he’d been told, the person was supposed to be perfect, yet everyone he saw had some type of deal breaker. Too thin, too short, too cocky, too… female.

A few had even stopped by to talk to him, resulting in a multitude of stressful encounters. He wasn’t sure he could take having to explain to another girl that she was barking up the wrong tree; at this point, if anyone, man or woman, started heading in his direction, he’d reject them by merely raising his necklace.

Sensing someone heading in his direction, he reaches for his necklace, only to hear the telltale click-clack of Willow’s stiletto heels.

“This is impossible,” Willow complains, tearing into a slice of bread as if it had hurt him personally. Well aware that even at his drunkest, Willow was too well-mannered to speak with food in his mouth, Kyouya waits for him to finish eating. “These people are all _morons_ , not a single person has worked.”

Feeling his body relax, Kyouya looks down at his angry, drunken friend empathetically. “Join the club. Not a single person in here has impressed me in the slightest.”

“Only a person with _zero taste_ would be impressed, with, _this_ ,” Willow gestures vaguely. “I swear, I—Hey, wait.” Whirling around dramatically, he slaps his glass down on the table, splashing a bit of wine in the process. Willow jabs a finger in Kyouya’s direction, causing him to lean away slightly, glaring down at him in confusion. “You _bitch_. Your necklace is _pink_ , how dare you talk about taste?”

“I never said anything about tas—Wait, what?” With wide eyes, he scrambles to pick up his necklace, staring into the bold red-violet crystal in shock and horror. It was completely solid, no longer possible to see through, meaning…

His eyes dart wildly around the room in search of its source.

“You… _did_ notice, didn’t you, darling?” Willow asks slowly. Leaning back, he clears his throat awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry, I…”

“Shut up,” Kyouya breathes, devoid of malice. Hesitantly, Willow steps in closer, taking a closer look at the crystal’s color, while Kyouya stares down at it, still reeling from the initial shock.

“Look,” Willow begins, reaching out and lifting Kyouya’s head by the chin, “Don’t panic. Whoever he is, I’m sure he’ll impress you. With eyes like those…”

“I just… how have I not seen him?” Kyouya asks, baffled. “Is he invisible or something?”

Willow hums, “Tell you what, darling—I’ll look around for you, for any man with pink eyes and a purple necklace.”

“Magenta,” Kyouya corrects.

“Pardon?”

“His eyes will be _magenta_ , not pink. It’s a shade of red-violet—”

Willow sighs loudly, shaking his head. Lifting his wine glass back up off the table, he walks off without a word.

While he searches, Kyouya focuses on his drink, pendant hidden in one hand out of paranoia. Watching Willow hunt down the man in the pendant didn’t quite appeal, instead adding to his nausea; although, he was sure nothing would help take the edge off right about now. Nothing but more wine, of course.

Staring down at the pendant in his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of person that color would belong to. It reminded him of some of his favorite shades of red-violet, a color spectrum that was his favorite overall, even if he _did_ prefer the darker end of that spectrum; plum, wine, mulberry…

“Excuse me,” a clear masculine voice to his right asks. Turning his head, Kyouya comes face-to-face with a patterned, black and white button up and black tie. He frowns; it wasn’t often that someone was _taller_ than him. Mentally preparing to hand out another rejection, he looks up and into a bold pair of red-violet eyes.

Startled, he drops his pendant, revealing the matching color gem. The man’s face flashes with surprise for a brief moment, quickly regaining his composure as if he’d never looked any different.

Seconds later, he pulls a silver chain from the pocket of his unbuttoned black peacoat. “I’m sorry. I was too nervous to approach you with it on,” he says sheepishly. The pendant turns a dark violet the second the chain touches his shoulders, and he leaves it to hang near his black tie.

“I wanted to talk to you sooner,” he continues. “But… your friend.”

 _Oh_. Kyouya nods in understanding, finding himself unable to speak all of a sudden, mouth involuntarily clamping shut.

“Are they… going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kyouya croaks out, turning away immediately to take a sip from his wine. The man nods, although he doesn’t really look convinced. Casually, he leans back against the table.

Giving him a sideways glance, Kyouya takes note of his stylish attire, complete with a low-hanging, soft gray sweater vest and pressed black pants. However, as well-dressed as he may be, Kyouya finds himself a lot more interested in how well the man fills out his clothing. The width of his torso was easily double Kyouya’s own; hell, _one_ of his thighs was probably thicker than Kyouya’s waist. And his chest… for a man, he was rather well endowed.

“My name is Kaname,” the man says, catching Kyouya’s eye with a gentle smile right as Kyouya snaps his gaze back up.

“Watanuki Kyouya,” Kyouya responds. Narrowing his eyes, he adds, “You’re Japanese?”

“Seems we both are,” Kaname says warmly.

“Technically, yes,” Kyouya says. Seeing the way Kaname tilts his head in question, he continues. “I was born in Vietnam. My brother and I were adopted out of country, to a Japanese family.”

“I see,” Kaname says. Smiling, he shakes his head and adds on, “I wasn’t born in Japan either.”

“I had a feeling,” Kyouya drones.

Frowning in confusion, Kaname asks, “Really?”

“Your accent,” Kyouya explains. “You’re French, aren’t you?”

“Oh.” Kaname smiles. “You’re right. I was born in Lyon. I hope my accent isn’t too thick, I’ve been trying to get rid of it…”

“You’re fine,” Kyouya reassures him, waving a hand in front of his face dismissively.

“I’m glad,” he says. “I’d hate for there to be a language barrier.”

“Yeah,” Kyouya says, staring down at his sharp black fingernails. The immediate shift into small talk was unexpected, but preferred; being swept off his feet was never something Kyouya dreamed of.

Kaname shifts closer, moving his left hand so that it rests on Kyouya’s other side. Staring back at it, Kyouya finds himself feeling surprisingly unperturbed by the gesture and its resulting proximity, turning back to look into his wine glass impassively.

Maybe he’s a bit more tipsy than he thought? It’s only been the one glass, though, one he hasn’t even finished yet, and he’s never known himself to be an _affectionate_ drunk. He takes another sip just to let the burn distract his thoughts.

\- ♡ -

Willow scoffs, barely resisting the urge to grind his teeth. Of course. It just _figures_ that the creepy anti-social goth could have his soulmate just waltz right up to him. With no effort!

As for the beautiful and luxurious Willow Aster? He was alone. Still. Working his ass off flaunting himself in front of every man, woman, and nonbinary in the dancehall. And for what? A gem that doesn’t light up?

Was his necklace defective? It _had_ to be. There was _no way_ he didn’t appeal to anyone in the dancehall, he should appeal to _everyone_! Anyone with _eyes_ , anyway.

Willow tightened his fist around his pendant, praying he could just shatter it and be done with it forever.

Returning to Kyouya was off the table. Being a third wheel was too much, and no way was he going to expose himself as a pathetic, lonely idiot in front of a soulmate set. Going to Wisteria was also off—she was too busy calling some other woman her “baby girl”, a woman whose eyes reflected in Wisteria’s gem.

Of course! Everyone but him, right?

Sighing heavily, he leans on a nearby table. With nothing else to do, he settles on checking his makeup in the compact he’d kept hidden on his person. Despite how much he’d had to drink, he knew his lipstick was nothing to worry about—it was waterproof, after all. However, his eyeliner was not, and he wasn’t about to go traipsing around without perfect winged liner.

Which, was exactly what he’d been doing, as he soon found out.

Finishing off another glass of wine, he just barely resists the urge to smash it on the ground before stomping off toward the bathrooms in a huff.

The restrooms were on the far end, opposite the entrance. Stepping into the dimly lit crimson hallway, Willow takes note of the mahogany benches and fake potted plants—he grimaces; plastic plants, really? First the gaudy golden chandelier, and now this? _Who decorates around here?_

He takes a few steps closer to the side of the hallway with the men’s bathrooms before noticing a man resting on the bench right outside. Oblivious to his surroundings, he sits there fiddling with his necklace, eyes trained on the ground at his feet. Narrowing his eyes, Willow finds he can’t possibly fathom what the man is thinking, hiding away from a party _with free wine_. What a los—

Willow’s eyes betray him, straying down to the man’s long, _long_ legs. Legs long enough that his knees rose up to his waist, as if the bench were made for children and not young adults. Willow finds his throat going dry at the sight.

Looking back up, he takes in the man’s black turtleneck, three-piece suit, and black gloves. The look is surprisingly mature and sophisticated for someone so spindly and awkward looking; for gods sake, his hair looks like it had a fight with a pair of scissors and lost. And yet…

Willow pushes the thought from his mind. This wasn’t the only potentially attractive and tall man he’d seen that night, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. For now, he had a job to do; trying and failing to woo yet another person could wait.

Stepping inside the men’s restroom, he’s pleased to note the lack of any plastic potted plants decorating the full-white tiled room. Instead there was a matching bench opposite the sinks, taking up any space that an ugly plant could have. In addition, there were no people around to see Willow’s eyeliner malfunction.

After fixing his makeup and combing through his wavy pink hair, he goes to straighten out his outfit, eyes landing immediately on his gem, now a dull gradient of pale pink and indigo. In disbelief he stares at it, willing it to fade away like some kind of mirage. Once his mind processes that the colors have no intention of going away, he whips around, searching with his eyes for the source. Every stall was open, every urinal unattended, bench empty… the only man in the mirrors was Willow, himself.

Maybe in another restroom? They might not be a man, after all. He nods to himself, satisfied with this conclusion. He collects his beauty products and sets out in search of a pair of heterochromatic pastel eyes, heels clicking loudly against the tile floor.

Sparing a glance toward the man on the bench, Willow finds him preoccupied, staring off in the direction of the hallway entrance, pendant clasped tight between both hands. The rest of the hallway remains empty, and as he can’t exactly enter any other restroom, he leans on the wall, one leg bent with his heel pressed against the plaster. Whoever he was looking for, they were close by, so if he simply _waited_ , they would appear.

Right?

As he waits, he finds his eyes constantly drifting back toward the man on the bench. Strangely, he’d never seen him before, not at school nor in town. Willow felt the man was a bit too distinct to go unnoticed so easily, and he couldn’t help but wonder. His hair covered his eye, but Willow could still see the curve of his jaw, his puffy lips, and his Greek nose.

Willow doesn’t even notice a woman walking out of one of the bathrooms until she’s already gone, but checking his pendant reveals that, if anything, the colors have only gotten stronger. He sighs and turns back to the man; if only he would just turn _a little_ , then Willow could finally cross him off the list.

Frustrated, Willow plants himself down onto the bench mere inches away from the man. This instantly startles him, granting the desired effect: he whips around in a combination of confusion and terror, revealing his mismatched eyes for Willow to see and knocking the air right out of his lungs. Their eyes meet for barely a second before the man’s flicker away, pale eyes focusing on something to Willow’s left.

Willow’s lips curl into a grin. “Found you,” he purrs, scooting closer until no space remains between them. The man reflexively leans away, shoulders tense, gloved hands still wrapped around his pendant, which hangs from a leather strap. Refusing to be bothered by this reaction, Willow follows him, leaning into his personal space and reaching up to caress his cheek.

What Willow was absolutely not expecting was for the man to visibly recoil as if burned, putting several inches of space between their bodies. Willow frowns, staring up into the man’s mismatched eyes as they look anywhere but at him, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Forcing a smile, Willow attempts a different approach.

“A bit shy, aren’t we,” Willow says flirtatiously, angling his body toward the man.

“Uh,” the man mutters, leaning back against the arm of the bench. He turns his head away entirely. Willow resists the urge to reach up and turn his gaze back to where it belongs—on him and him alone, of course. It probably wouldn’t be very well received.

“Has my beauty rendered you speechless?” Willow laughs, framing his jaw with the back of his hand. The man makes a small, choked noise, spurring Willow on and resulting in him shifting his legs to be more visible. The effect is instantaneous, garnering the man’s attention immediately, pale eyes fixed on Willow’s slim legs. A swell of pride enters Willow’s chest and he squeezes his thighs together in a borderline obscene manner.

Several moments of nonverbal teasing later, Willow’s eye catches on the necklace clasped firmly in the taller man’s hand. Remembering that he still hasn’t seen it, he sweetly asks, “Can you show me your necklace, darling?”

“Huh?”

“Your gem,” Willow explains, using one finger to hold up the pendant on his own necklace. “I have yours. Won’t you show me mine?”

“Y… Y-You’re, um, w-…wearing it,” the man says, every syllable forced out through some type of clog in his throat, accent thick, yet hard to place. Willow tilts his head.

“Pardon?”

He blinks, thick brows furrowed in confusion. “…I--…I do-don’t have it.”

“You’re wearing it, darling. Could you open your hand for me?” He bats his eyelashes, not that the man is looking to begin with.

Realization crosses the man’s features. “Oh,” he says softly. Then, frowning, he asks, “Wh—…Why?”

Suppressing a sigh, Willow forces a bright smile. “I want to see if it matches my eyes.”

“I-I-It d-doesn’t,” the man blurts out. Willow almost rolls his eyes.

“I know,” he says patiently, despite not having nearly enough patience in reality. “Won’t you show it to me anyway?”

The man frowns at the wall behind Willow, but hesitantly opens his hand to reveal a lavender gem sitting in the palm of his hand. Letting out a relieved breath, Willow leans closer, setting his gem down next to it. The man stiffens, his hand shaking with almost enough force to throw both pendants out of his hand.

“You see? Now we match,” Willow says. Face now a dark shade of orange, the man’s eyes dart between the lavender gem and Willow’s deep pink eyes in confusion, never lingering on Willow’s eyes for longer than a second. Willow laughs, “I’m wearing contacts, darling.”

He frowns, eyes fixed somewhere behind Willow’s head. “Why?”

“I wouldn’t be caught _dead_ in public without these,” Willows says very seriously. The man’s lips press tightly together, and he sinks down slightly, looking like a chastised dog. “It’s easy to explain, so it didn’t seem important. And, anyway, it’s not like anyone _else_ around here has your eye colors.”

The man gives no indication at all that he agrees, understands, or is even listening.

Willow hums, leaning back and taking his necklace with him. The man visibly relaxes as soon as some personal space is regained, all of which vanishes upon Willow’s following statement. “Could you look me in the eyes, darling?”

He visibly stiffens. Shakes his head once. Wraps his fingers tight around his pendant. Willow blinks, uncomprehending, but decides not to push.

“Well, then… could you tell me your name, at the very least?”

“J—Jeane,” he says, accent suddenly noticeably French. That earns him a genuine smile from his pink-haired soulmate.

“Jeane,” he purrs, drawing out the “zzzahn”. Jeane gasps softly, a choked sort of sound immediately followed up with an embarrassed squeak barely audible through his tightly pressed lips. Willow grins, extremely smug. “Do you like that?” he asks, voice low and sensual. He giggles softly, dancing his fingers up the top of Jeane’s thigh. This time, Jeane doesn’t flinch. Instead, he covers the lower half of his face in embarrassment.

“Y—“ Jeane starts, then swallows hard, eyes darting around nervously. “Y-Y-You’re r-r-real-ly pr-pre-pretty,” he finishes lamely, immediately looking as if he regretted ever opening his mouth or even being born to begin with. It’s enough to make him look like he might cry, or suddenly dart out of the room.

Dumbfounded, Willow stares at Jeane’s flustered expression in disbelief, mind playing catch-up as he tries to register what was just said. Then, he bursts out laughing, covering his mouth with the back of one hand. Jeane whips his head around in shock.

“Wh—What—“

“I’m sorry,” Willow apologizes, forcing himself to calm down despite his giddiness. Jeane stares at him with a mix of confusion, hurt, and humiliation visible on his face. “Darling, I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. You’re just so _cute_ ,” he says, latching onto Jeane’s right arm, causing the taller man to startle, nearly jumping out of his seat. Giggling, Willow watches as Jeane covers the remainder of his rapidly reddening face in his hand.

\- ♡ -

Ankles crossed, Kyou leans forward on the table with his head propped in his hands. To his left, Visual sits with his legs crossed, exposing the bare skin of his legs. As a result, Kyou can’t stop sneaking glances, biting his lip and sighing softly as he does so.

“Try this,” Visual says, snapping Kyou out of his trance.

Looking down, Kyou notices a spoon with several different colored gumdrops held out for him. The spoon itself is glistening and streaked with bits of frosting, no doubt left over from Visual’s cake. Kyou’s eyes widen in realization, and he doesn’t hesitate for a second before leaning forward to take a bite.

While the remnants of the frosting interfered with the overall taste a little, the candy’s flavors mixed together perfectly, eliciting a highly inappropriate moan from Kyou. Visual turns slightly pink.

“You’re a geniusssss,” Kyou moans, sliding down in his chair.

“So I’ve been told,” Visual says, playfully rolling his eyes. “I just have a sweet tooth, and I love experimenting.”

Kyou gives a catlike grin from his spot laid halfway over the table. “I also love,” he waggles his eyebrows, “ _experimenting_.”

Visual laughs, covering his mouth with the back of his right hand. “Shut _up_.”

“What else have you got?” Kyou asks, bouncing back up.

Visuals hums, bringing a bent finger up to his chin in thought as he glances over their trays; Kyou’s was filled with just about everything with no sense of order, while Visual’s was neatly arranged with various strawberry-based desserts.

“What flavor’s that tart?” He asks, pointing out a pale, yellow-green-ish dessert on Kyou’s plate. Kyou immediately lifts it up and smells it.

“Apple,” he reports.

“That’s a cinnamon cookie, right?” Visual points to a cookie covered in little brown sugar crystals. Kyou nods right away. “Put some of that apple on the cookie.”

“Yessir,” Kyou says, picking out the apples in the tart with his fingers and piling them haphazardly on top of the cookie.

“Now put it in your mouth,” Visual instructs.

Kyou flashes a grin. “I love it when guys say that to me,” he says, coy, stuffing the dessert Frankenstein in his mouth all at once while Visual scoffs and rolls his eyes. While there could certainly stand to be a lot more apple in the mixture, the flavors mixed together wonderfully.

“It’s ssssssoooo goooodddd,” Kyou moans, despite his mouth being full. He presses a hand against his cheek, struggling to get everything chewed and swallowed, but as soon as he’s done, he says, “It feels like you’re cooking for me already.”

Visual waves a hand dismissively, “I’m not very good at cooking. Mostly I just bake.”

“Kyouya banned me from the kitchen,” Kyou says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh, Kyouya’s my brother.”

“I figured as much,” Visual shrugs. “Twins?”

“Yep!” Kyou stares down at his tray, searching for his next treat. “What about you?”

“I have an older sister,” Visual says. “Haven’t seen much of her since I started school, though. Lives too far away.”

“Where’s she live?” Kyou asks, digging out a chocolate chip cookie and breaking off a piece in his mouth.

“Wenzhou,” Visual says, popping a strawberry in his mouth.

Kyou’s eyes widen, and he quickly swallows down his dessert. “…China?”

“Mhm,” Visual hums past the strawberry.

“That’s hours away!”

“A full day, actually,” Visual corrects, staring down at his desserts, expression suddenly closed off and devoid of emotion. Absentmindedly, he uses his spoon to poke at the shortcake on his tray.

“Well, shit.” Squinting, Kyou looks out on the dancehall for any sign of his brother. “I could probably point my brother out right now… uh… hmm… I think that’s… wait… ohhh,” He trails off, snickering.

“What?”

“He’s _bus-y_ ,” Kyou says. Horrified, Visual’s head snaps up, causing Kyou to laugh even harder. “Not like that. Look.” He leans closer to Visual, who follows suit, following Kyou’s line of sight as he points across the hall. “With the purple hair and goth as shit kimono,” Kyou hints.

“Oh,” Visual says, squinting, “I think I see him.”

The two boys return to their seats, although Visual keeps looking. “I _told him_ it would be fine,” Kyou says. Visual nods slowly in response before returning to his cake.

Stuffing several gumdrops and a tart into his mouth, Kyou swallows half before deciding to talk more. Visual either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, listening intently as Kyou rambles on about the many soulmate-based arguments he’s had with his brother in the past. Despite the fact that Visual is clearly listening, it’s apparent he’s a little distracted, staring off into the distance more times than one. After chowing down on a few more cookies, Kyou decides to ask him about it.

“I was thinking,” Visual starts, staring down at the cake on his spoon. “We both have another partner.” He glances down at Kyou’s necklace, and Kyou at Visual’s, noting the dark purple gem sitting beside a clear one. “Shouldn’t we be looking? And not… eating.”

Kyou looks down at his necklace. “I… honestly kinda sorta, forgot,” he admits. He looks back up at Visual and grins. “I was too busy getting lost in your eyes.” Visual rolls his eyes. “So… do you think they like sweets?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Visual says. “Let’s finish eating, okay? We’ll worry about their food preferences later.”

Kyou nods, and together they focus on finishing up all the food on their plates. Visual winds up having to help Kyou eat everything on his tray, with Visual complaining that he’s going to be too sick to get up in the morning. Kyou shrugs it off, unconcerned.

Once they’re finished, Visual carries their trays to the nearest waste bin while Kyou waits nearby, continuing to eye the dessert table. “I think you’ve had enough,” Visual laughs as he walks back over to his purple-headed partner. He offers up his left hand, “Shall we?”

Kyou stares down at Visual’s outstretched hand, stars in his eyes as he eagerly accepts. With Kyou standing close by, Visual leads them around the dancehall.

“So,” Kyou starts, looking around at all the students milling about, some dancing, some talking, some eating food all alone. “Do you think we have the same one, or different ones?”

“Depends,” Visual says. “What side is your clear gem on?”

“What does that matter?”

“Just a theory of mine,” Visual explains. Kyou hums thoughtfully in response, reaching for his necklace and squinting down at the gem beside the pale blue one. If he squinted hard enough, it almost looked kind of…

“…Green?”

“Huh?”

Kyou holds up his pendants, shaking them around for emphasis. “It’s _green!_ ”

Panicked, Visual reaches for his own necklace, holding it up with the chain between two fingers to reveal a nearly-opaque olivine gem. “Mine too. They must be nearby… shit, it’s getting dimmer!”

Kyou perks up. “COLD!” He exclaims, causing Visual to flinch. Right as Visual was about to demand an explanation, Kyou tightens his grip and takes off running in a random direction, dragging Visual along.

“Wait!” Visual calls out as Kyou weaves through crowds of students, causing Visual to nearly trip and fall on multiple occasions. “I hate running!!”

“HOT!” Kyou announces, halting suddenly near the stage. Visual crashes into his side, almost tipping them both over, but Kyou manages to catch them in time. Leaning heavily against Kyou, Visual fixes him with an annoyed look, his pierced eyebrow raised. Ignoring him entirely, Kyou’s dark eyes dart around the room. Double checking his pendant reveals it’s still a pure, unclouded shade of pale olive.

“I don’t see _anyone_ with green eyes up here,” Kyou complains. Visual stands up straighter, clearing his throat.

“Maybe they ran in there,” Visual says, gesturing toward the curtains hanging beside the stage.

“Ooo, a rebel,” Kyou says, grinning.

“I doubt it,” Visual says. “I’m not into the ‘bad boy’ type, and this is for both of us, remember?”

Kyou throws a hand over his heart in mock offense. “How _dare_ you imply that _I’m_ not a bad boy?” Visual scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, _bad boy_ , why don’t you lead the way then?”

“With pleasure!” Kyou exclaims, saluting. Visual stifles a laugh before following Kyou backstage, surprised to see Kyou holding back the curtain for him.

“A bad boy and a gentleman too, huh?”

“What can I say? I’m a complex man,” Kyou brags.

The two step inside hand-in-hand, looking around at all the boxes and props. With all the performers currently on stage, they’re able to explore without much issue, darkness aside. They look around props, under them, even checking inside some lockers in the back. No one can be found wandering around or hidden anywhere, yet both their gems remain a fairly non-transparent shade of green.

“You don’t think they’re a performer, do you?” Kyou asks, sitting down on some type of cushion as Visual paces around the backstage area. Kyou props his head up on his hands, watching Visual move some kind of tarp, only to step away with slumped shoulders.

“Couldn’t be,” he says, pressing his hand against his chin in thought. “They’re in the graduating class; they’re too old for this.”

“Do you think, if we just yell really loud—“

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Visual says, holding up his hand. “We’d get in huge trouble. Besides, I think… whoever this is, they’re probably hiding. I feel bad looking, but…”

“Why bad?” Kyou asks, frowning. He sways side to side out of boredom.

“Well… they might be shy?” Visual suggests.

“Or maybe they’re getting hiiiigggghhh,” Kyou says, grinning deviously.

Visual rolls his eyes, “I think someone would smell it if that was happening.”

“Not if it’s a _pill_ ,” Kyou points out. “Or a syringe, or powder.”

“I’d rather not think our future life partner is a drug addict, Kyou.”

Kyou shrugs. Picking up his necklace by the chain, he swings the crystals back and forth so the beads clack into each other. He stares into the green one until suddenly it starts to glow dimmer.

“Vis—“

“I see it,” Visual says. “Let’s follow it. Just, no running?” Kyou groans loudly as if it’s such a huge inconvenience, “reluctantly” agreeing. Visual laughs, slipping his hand into Kyou’s without bothering to ask, causing Kyou’s cheeks to redden as Visual leads them back out onto the dance floor.

Visual squints painfully as they step back into the light, but Kyou’s dark eyes adjust immediately, allowing him to search through the crowd without issue. “Wait,” Kyou says, and Visual turns towards him. “There.” Kyou points in the direction of the restrooms, where a blonde in a pastel outfit is hurrying into the hallway. Kyou checks Visual’s reaction to see him squinting in their direction before nodding in agreement.

The boys slip into the back hallway, finding none other than a couple on the bench outside the men’s restrooms.

“Willow!” Kyou exclaims, causing Visual to flinch yet again.

The pink haired man groans from his spot leaning halfway into a much taller man’s lap. He leans back, one hand on the back of the bench, while his partner hides his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

“Ugh, not _you_ ,” Willow groans, a dirty glare on his otherwise pretty face. “The hell do you want?”

Visual looks back and forth between the two in confusion as Kyou asks, “Has anyone been by here? Blonde hair, pastels?”

Glaring with half-lidded eyes, he nods his head in the direction of the men’s bathroom. “Men’s room,” he says, before turning his glare back to Kyou. “Now fuck off.”

“Thanks, Will,” Kyou says, ushering Visual into the bathroom before Willow could murder him for the unwanted nickname.

Once inside, they begin their search, turning up with nothing but several closed stalls. Sighing, Visual leans in close to Kyou’s pointy ear, causing Kyou to shudder as he whispers, “I guess we gotta wait.” Ignoring the way his knees shake, Kyou nods, pointing to the bench opposite the sinks, and together they take a seat. Despite their now-stationary status, neither bothers pulling their hand away, instead choosing to relish in the simple act of affection.

“So,” Kyou says, as close to an indoor voice as he’s capable of doing. “Wanna play twenty questions?”

“What?”

“You know, I ask you a question, you ask me a question, and we stop at twenty,” Kyou explains.

“That’s not twenty questions,” Visual says, smiling and shaking his head. “But sure.”

“I’ll go first,” Kyou says, bouncing in excitement as he turns his body toward Visual, a catlike grin on his face. “What’s your favorite sex position?”

“Uhhhh,” Visual says, turning slightly pink. “Should you really lead with that?”

“Are you too embarrassed to tell me, Vi-sual…?” Kyou teases, a mischievous look on his face as he covers his chin with the back of his hand, fingers curled like a princess. Visual rolls his eyes.

“I don’t really have an answer. Sorry to disappoint,” Visual says, laughing at Kyou’s exaggeratedly disappointed reaction. “My turn. What’s… your favorite color?”

“Red,” Kyou responds quickly. “Come on, Vis, you gotta hit harder with these questions! We’re not in grade school anymore.” Kyou rolls his eyes. “Anyway, my turn. How big is your dick?”

“Oh my gods,” Visual says, blushing harder and face palming. Bouncing up and down, Kyou starts chanting “answer, answer, answer” as Visual searches for a way to change the subject. In the end, he settles on, “fifteen inches. My turn.”

“What!” Kyou squeals. “That’s a lie and it doesn’t count!! Do over!”

“Nope,” Visual says, grinning. Just as Kyou goes to protest more, Visual holds up a finger and says, “ _My turn_. What are you majoring in?”

Kyou groans childishly. “Bo-ring,” he complains. “I major in _jacking off_. My turn.”

“Kyou!” Visual exclaims, shaking his head like a disappointed parent as Kyou stubbornly pouts. “If you’re not gonna take this seriously…”

Kyou turns towards him suddenly, slamming a hand down on the bench between them, startling Visual. “Then tell me your dick size!!”

“Can’t you ask a more important question?”

“This is of the upmost importance, Visual! I need a rough estimate, _at least!_ ”

“Maybe I don’t have a dick,” Visual says, turning away and looking down at Kyou with one eye closed. “What then?”

“Then—“ Kyou starts, cutting himself off. He stares downwards, free hand raising up to his chin as he becomes lost in thought. “Uh… I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Visual says. “Now answer my question.”

“Fiiiiiiine,” Kyou whines, slumping back against the white tile wall. “I’m a comp major.”

“…’Comp’?” Visual asks, confused.

“Music Theory and Composition,” Kyou explains. He turns to Visual with a wink. “I’m a bad boy musician.”

Visual huffs in amusement. “With a tuba, probably.”

Kyou feigns offense. “Excuse you,” he scoffs. “I play the _bass guitar_ primarily, plus piano, keyboard, and both electric and acoustic guitar.” He counts them all off on his fingers, before puffing out his chest and pointing a hand down over his heart. “Bad. Boy. _Musician_.”

Visual laughs. “Alright, _rock star_ , that’s pretty impressive. I have no musical talent at all, I can’t even play the recorder without it sounding like a dying elderly man.”

“Not everyone can be a Rock God such as myself,” Kyou says arrogantly.

“So modest,” Visual says, shaking his head.

“And, anyway, I’m not good at anything _but_ music, and, well…” he leans in, gesturing for Visual to bend down so he can whisper in his ear. “ _I’m pretty good at cunnilingus_ ,” he whispers, flicking his tongue out at Visual’s face like a lizard, causing the taller man to recoil immediately.

“You’re disgusting,” Visual says, wiping at his face to make sure none of Kyou’s spit got on his skin. Kyou starts snickering, and Visual can’t help but find it infectious, combining into a brief laughing fit between the two boys. As it dies down, Visual adds, “I don’t have a vagina, by the way.”

“Then you’ll have no problem telling me your—“

“Next question,” Visual quickly interjects.

\- ♡ -

“So, what happened next?” Kaname asks, excited and a little giggly. Kyouya leans his head back a bit, enjoying the firmness of Kaname’s shoulder.

“He got down one step and immediately tumbled over and crashed down the stairs.”

“Oh no!” Kaname exclaims, yet he laughs anyway. “I feel bad for laughing, but… is he okay?”

“Nah, he’s dead now,” Kyouya says. After a brief pause, Kaname bursts out laughing; Kyouya covers his mouth to hide the smug satisfaction that Kaname’s reaction gives him.

“ _That’s_ _terrible_ ,” Kaname says through the sound of his own laughter. As he calms down, he leans a bit closer, resting his cheek on Kyouya’s head. Kyouya tenses up on contact, taking a long sip of his drink as a distraction.

“Your brother sounds wild,” Kaname says.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

“You will,” Kyouya reassures. “Tomorrow, or later tonight perhaps. The future is uncertain.”

“I’m excited,” Kaname says. “My sister and I were never very close.”

“Oh yeah?” Kyouya prompts.

“Do you think Willow ever found his partner?” Kaname asks suddenly. Kyouya blinks.

“Uh? I don’t know,” Kyouya says slowly. “Maybe. Probably?” He shrugs. “For all I know, they’re off fucking somewhere as we speak.”

“What?” Kaname laughs, scandalized. “Where would they ever find the privacy?”

“Pfft.” Kyouya flaps his hand dismissively. “Willow’d fuck directly on that stage if he had a choice. He’s never cared much about getting caught.”

“Wow,” Kaname says, a mixture of amusement and disbelief apparent in his tone. “I could never.”

“Yeah, no,” Kyouya agrees. He turns his head in order to look up at Kaname, establishing eye contact. “I’m a bit too possessive, I think.”

Kyouya doesn’t miss the way Kaname’s cheeks turns a light shade of red-orange. “In… what way?” Kaname asks.

Kyouya turns away, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, one hand up by his jaw. “Well, obviously, I want to lock you up in my basement and break your legs so you can never leave.” After a tense silence, Kyouya opens one eye to look up at Kaname’s nervous and bewildered expression. “That was a joke.”

“O-Oh,” Kaname says, forcing a laugh in an attempt at politeness. “Sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell. You just… seemed so serious.”

“It’s my own special brand of comedy,” Kyouya says, shrugging. “And, anyway, I’m only into consensual stuff. I’d ask first before I tried to lock you up and break your legs.”

 _That_ got Kaname to laugh a bit more openly.

“Our relationship is going to be very interesting, isn’t it?” Kaname asks. Kyouya merely shrugs in response.

A comfortable silence follows, allowing Kyouya the opportunity to observe the dancing couples in the center of the room. The chaos from before had cleared out, most of the mess now seated with some free food. Kyouya finds he can’t spot anyone familiar; but then again, he didn’t know very many people to begin with.

“Do you want to dance?” Kaname asks suddenly. Surprised, Kyouya turns back to look up at him.

“You can dance?”

“I can… tango…” Kaname says slowly. “I’ve done some other ballroom stuff too, but I don’t really remember much of it.”

“I only know how to waltz,” Kyouya says. “The tango never really interested me. It was just too awkward, dancing so close to someone I barely know. Plus, the dance instructor was a woman, and I’m… not super comfortable locking legs with women.”

“That’s fair,” Kaname says, nodding. “I could teach you to tango some day, if you’re interested in dancing with a man instead.”

Kyouya scoffs, amused. “Sure. I’ll have to warn you, though,” Kyouya starts, gazing into Kaname’s vivid red-violet eyes and lowering both his voice and eyelids as he says, “I prefer to lead.”

“Oh,” Kaname says slowly. “Somehow I feel like we’re not talking about dancing anymore.”

Kyouya stares down at Kaname’s lips for a prolonged moment before turning away, cutting through the tension like a knife. He searches the dance floor as he says, “Who knows.”

Laughing nervously, Kaname says, “You sure do love to tease me. Anyway… maybe you could teach me to waltz?”

“Hmm… sure,” Kyouya replies, shrugging. He steps forward and spins on his heel in one fluid motion, holding out his left hand for Kaname to take.

“Wh… Now?” As Kyouya nods in the affirmative, his partner’s eyes light up. “Really? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Kaname says sympathetically.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” Kyouya says, expression and tone both stoic and unreadable. It gives Kaname pause, causing him to hesitate before gently accepting Kyouya’s hand. Instinctively, Kyouya tightens his grip, as if to get some type of point across, and leads Kaname out among the other dancers.

The pair stops at a spot without many other dancers around, and Kyouya turns to face Kaname. Holding their clasped hands up between their shoulders, Kyouya says, “Put your other hand here,” guiding Kaname’s available hand up onto his shoulder. “Move your fingers forward a little… perfect.” He places his right hand on Kaname’s back, their arms stacking. “Stand up straight. Keep your feet like this.”

Taking each step slowly, Kyouya walks him through it, while Kaname stares down at their feet, careful never to step on any toes. It’s awkward and slow and clumsy but Kaname is patient and enthusiastic. Kyouya finds it impossible to become annoyed whenever he missteps.

Before too long, Kaname’s able to complete the steps in near-perfect rhythm with Kyouya, albeit much slower and stiffer than Kyouya’s used to. Having once been a beginner himself, he knew what it was like.

“Is this all of it?” Kaname asks, still glancing down at their feet every now and then.

“The basics, yes,” Kyouya says. “It’s not as fluid as it should be, but it’ll get better as you get more used to it. You’ll stop checking out our feet, too.”

Kaname laughs bashfully. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“There are flourishes you can add, too,” Kyouya continues. “Spinning, dipping, et cetera. We’re not quite ready for all of that, though.”

Kaname nods, looking back up into Kyouya’s dark eyes. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“A Romanian castle,” he lies, voice flat. Kaname laughs, causing Kyouya to look away, flustered. “It’s really nothing special. My parents wanted me to learn all sorts of things, and I couldn’t help that I was actually interested in a lot of it,” Kyouya explains. “I was never good with a violin, but ballroom dancing isn’t too hard.”

“I used to have a violin,” Kaname says. “I could play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and that was about it.” He laughs. “The school lent them out to anyone who wanted to learn, but I was never very good at it.”

“Why not?”

“The teacher told me my fingers were too thick and that I should go for a brass instrument instead,” he says sadly. “I just wanted to play something nice, like all the records I used to listen to.”

Kyouya looks at him in confusion, brows furrowed. “ _Records_?” he asks, astonished. “You had a _record player_?”

“I got it from one of my neighbors, growing up,” he says. “I loved it; I felt really mature using it. It was so big to me that it just felt so complicated and _adult_.” He laughs. “It was all classical and folk music, and I loved it.”

“Hmm,” Kyouya says thoughtfully. “I’m not really a big fan of music.”

“It helps liven up a room.”

“Sure,” Kyouya says, nodding once. “But so does ambience.”

“Ambient music?” Kaname asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah. It’s nice and quiet.” Kaname nods in understanding before Kyouya adds, “But I like rain sounds, too.”

“Sure,” Kaname says, a warm smile on his face. Kyouya feels his heart skip a beat, but elects to ignore it.

A silence ensues, Kaname watching their feet move in tandem. Several minutes later, Kaname says, “Can I twirl you?” Kyouya gives him an incredulous look.

“You’re not leading,” Kyouya points out, frowning. Kaname lets out a soft “oh” as if he’d forgotten all about that fact.

“Then… can you twirl _me_?” he asks instead.

Kyouya blinks several times in surprise. He averts his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable with eye contact. “Um,” Kyouya stammers. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Kaname says quickly. “I just thought it might be… fun.”

“No, I just…” Kyouya starts, trailing off as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to say. He stops dancing all of a sudden, pulling his hands away and averting his gaze. “Actually, I think I’m done dancing. Can we sit down?”

Kaname blinks, confused, but quickly steadies his expression into one considerably more neutral. “Of course.”

Kyouya avoids looking at him, instead searching for a nice, empty table with no one close by. Once he finds one he likes, he gestures to it, and Kaname nods in agreement. They head over, Kyouya always one step ahead, taking a seat long before Kaname and folding his arms on the table, staring off in a random direction. He listens as another chair is pulled out next to him.

“Is everything okay?” Kaname asks as he sits down, pulling the chair in under him. When Kyouya doesn’t respond, he asks, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Kyouya quickly responds, turning back to face Kaname. As soon as he sees the look of concern on his partner’s face, he looks away again.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Kaname says gently. Kyouya shakes his head.

“There’s nothing to talk about, I just… got tired,” Kyouya lies, unable to look Kaname in the eye as he does so. He taps his nails to fill the ensuing silence, both of them struggling to find something to say. Eventually, Kaname speaks up.

“Are you hungry?” Kaname asks. “I can bring us something to eat.”

“Uh… maybe,” Kyouya says. Hastily, he turns to look at Kaname. “But, wait. I’m pescetarian.” Kaname stares at him with a totally blank look. “Vegan, with fish,” Kyouya explains. Kaname lets out a soft “oh” before nodding.

“Sushi, then,” he says. “What’re your favorites?”

“Salmon and crab,” Kyouya says, without even having to think about it.

“Got it,” Kaname says, giving Kyouya a friendly smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Kyouya nods, and Kaname rises from the table, pushing in his chair before wandering off. With a subdued sigh, Kyouya stares down at the table, tapping his painted nails on the tablecloth.

Pulling his phone out of his kimono, he checks over his notifications. Nothing from Kyou or Willow. He types up a message for Kyou, deletes it several times, then eventually sends off a simple message checking up on him. Not expecting anything anytime soon—Kyou probably found his soulmates within five minutes, anyway—he returns his phone to his pocket, chewing on his lower lip and staring off into space.

Kaname returns not long after with one large tray of sushi and two smaller, empty trays tucked under his arm. He sets the large tray down in the middle of the table and sets out the two smaller trays on the table in front of their chairs, pulling two pairs of chopsticks out of his coat pocket and setting the table with them. He takes his seat afterwards.

“They didn’t have any napkins, but,” Kaname begins, splitting his chopsticks, “They had a ton of these!”

 “Of course they did. I doubt many Americans even know how to use them.”

Kaname passively shrugs in response. After splitting his chopsticks, Kyouya immediately dives in for a salmon roll, ignoring his plate in favor of eating it directly off the serving tray. Kaname laughs good-naturedly at his enthusiasm.

“I didn’t realize it before, but,” Kyouya says, politely covering his mouth, “I’m starving.”

Kaname laughs, causing Kyouya’s stomach to start doing flips. “Me too,” he agrees.

\- ♡ -

“W-Who was th-that?”

“A sibling of a friend. Don’t worry about it, darling,” Willow says. He curls up his legs, which he’d long since draped across Jeane’s lap. Jeane stares at his legs for a prolonged moment before looking away in embarrassment, hands now only covering his mouth and nose. “You can look, you know. As much as you like,” Willow teases, lifting one leg up near Jeane’s face for emphasis and drawing an embarrassed noise from him.

As flustered as he near-constantly got, Willow found that Jeane hadn’t taken long to warm up to the idea of having his personal space invaded. While he still flinched at direct contact to his skin, leaving his face completely off-limits, the majority of him was fair game. Every little thing embarrassed him, which only made it so much more worthwhile to tease him.

Suffice to say, they hadn’t done much _talking_ so far.

Willow takes hold of one of Jeane’s gloved hands. Curious, Jeane watches their joined hands, and Willow smiles warmly, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he sets Jeane’s hand down on his inner thigh, pressing it down as Jeane begins to panic.

“Don’t be so shy,” Willow purrs. He draws Jeane’s twitching hand further up his thigh, slowly, squeezing his legs together and making a low moaning noise. Jeane yelps and yanks his hand back, eyes wide and face looking a lot sweatier than before. Willow laughs, “You’re adorable, Jeane… You know I just want to tease you.”

“O-O-Ohh,” Jeane stutters. He places his hand back on his face, fully covering it as he sinks into the bench corner.

Willow giggles and says, “I can stop, you know. Before you burn up and disappear.”

Jeane pulls his hands down enough to be able to see, but doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands if they’re not on his face somewhere. He nods, slowly, and Willow snuggles up against his torso, rubbing his cheek against the soft knit fabric of Jeane’s turtleneck. He strokes a hand over the fabric of Jeane’s blazer.

“You have good taste in fabrics, darling,” Willow compliments. “I wonder if the rest of you is this soft…?” He giggles. “Sorry.”

A gloved hand comes to rest hesitantly at Willow’s side, arm supporting the man’s back in his curled up position. Willow glances behind him, surprised, turning to look up at Jeane’s face. His eyes are staring off in the opposite direction, lips pressed tightly together. Willow smiles, curling his legs to the side and getting even more comfortable.

“I like this a lot better than what I was doing before,” Willow says. He continues petting Jeane’s blazer. They remain stationary for a while, both of them staring off into the distance as they let a comfortable silence wash over them. Jeane begins to relax more and more as the minutes tick by, eventually setting his left hand down on the arm of the bench.

Willow had almost begun nodding off by the time Jeane spoke again. “Wi—Willow,” he begins, voice so quiet that Willow wasn’t sure he heard anything to begin with. “Um,” Jeane continues awkwardly, causing Willow to lift his head to look up at him.

“What is it, darling?”

Jeane’s eyes dart around the hallway as if searching for what he wants to say. “I—I don’t, um, k-know you v-very well,” is what he settles on. Willow blinks, bemused.

“Well, yes,” he says. He tilts his head forward, “Oh… would you like to?”

“Yes,” Jeane says simply, staring down somewhere near Willow’s knees.

“Well…” Willow begins, staring off to his left. “Mmm… is there anything in particular you want to know?” He looks back up at Jeane to see his eyes glancing around thoughtfully.

“Um,” Jeane mumbles, “Uh… I… I-I don’t know…”

Willow smiles up at him. “Anything is fine, darling.”

“Oh, u-um,” Jeane stutters. He reaches up and starts stroking a small strand of his own hair. “Uh… um…” He pauses for an extended period of time. “Wh… W-What k-kind of, um… m-music d-do y-you like…”

Willow blinks. “Music?” he asks, confused. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting… I don’t really listen to much music, darling.”

“O-Oh,” Jeane says, clearly disappointed. It makes Willow feel terrible in a way he isn’t used to feeling, and he winds up scrambling to find a better answer.

“I… don’t mind jazz,” Willow says, sounding unsure of himself. Jeane doesn’t seem to notice at all, expression softening as he turns to look somewhere near Willow’s shoulder. “I like… the cello?” he continues, unsure if he’s blatantly lying or not. “We have some records back home that I’ll put on every now and then, just… for atmosphere. It’s all jazz and classical.”

Jeane bites his lip. “I,” he begins, anxiously glancing up at Willow’s face for a brief moment. “I-I’m s-s-studying m-music.”

“Really?” Willow asks. “You know, you can hardly hear the stage music from back here. Why don’t we move in closer?” He shifts, pulling himself up and swinging his legs around to place his feet on the floor.

“What—N-No,” Jeane says, panicking. Willow gives him a confused look, brows burrowed. “I-It’s too l-loud,” Jeane explains.

“We don’t have to stand directly next to the stage, darling,” Willow says, only for Jeane to shake his head adamantly.

“It’s t-too l-loud,” he repeats. Willow gives him a look like he doesn’t agree. Jeane averts his gaze in the direction of the bathrooms. “I l-like it b—back here.”

Willow frowns. “There’s nothing back here.”

“Yes,” Jeane says, frowning slightly. Willow sighs.

“Aren’t you hungry, at least?”

“No,” Jeane lies. “C-Can’t we, j-just…” Willow tilts his head up to look at Jeane, expression flat and bored. “Um…” He turns away, tapping his gloved finger on the bench beside him. “S-Sorry,” he says meekly, slumping forward. Willow’s face softens.

“It’s okay, Jeane,” Willow says, unsure if it actually is or not, leaning forward to try and get a look at Jeane’s face. He sighs inwardly; socially awkward people weren’t usually people he gave the time of day to. Why would anyone want to hide in a hallway when there was a party in the other room? With free wine that _didn’t_ taste like paint? He tapped his fingers against his chin in thought.

“If you don’t want to go out there, then what _do_ you want to do?” he asks, the words coming out a lot more forced and sharp than he intended them to. He cringes inwardly; he _really_ didn’t want to sit in the hallway in silence when he could be getting plastered, dancing, eating a free Mont Blanc cake, making out in a corner of the dancehall… For that matter, could he even _reach_ Jeane’s mouth? He still hadn’t seen him stand up.

“I-I don’t k-know,” Jeane says despairingly. Willow looks around the hallway before spotting a clock hanging on the wall in the far corner. He squints at it.

“The event won’t end for another hour,” Willow says. He hesitates to suggest they do anything outside this hallway, afraid Jeane might burst into tears or something. He hmm’s, pulling his phone out of his dress pocket and opening the messaging app.

Willow > I found him [11:02pm]  
Willow > He’s really awkward help [11:02pm]

He leans back against the wall, chewing the inside of his lip impatiently.

Kyouya > You mean you havent sucked his dick yet? [11:05pm]  
Willow > No. [11:05pm]  
Willow > We’re stuck in the bathroom hallway [11:05pm]  
Kyouya > ...And youre not doing anything? [11:05pm]  
Willow > God I fucking wish I was [11:05pm]  
Willow > He flinched when I touched his face there’s no way [11:06pm]  
Kyouya > Yikes. [11:06pm]  
Kyouya > Im doing just fine though. [11:06pm]  
Willow > HA HA [11:06pm]  
Willow > I could kill you [11:06pm]  
Kyouya > I invite you to try. [11:07pm]

Willow crosses his legs, glaring down at his phone. In hopes of finding some actually helpful advice, he switches over to a different person.

Willow > Wis [11:07pm]  
Willow > Wissssssss [11:07pm]  
Wisteria > Is this terribly important? [11:09pm]  
Willow > I’m having trouble [11:09pm]  
Willow > What do socially awkward people do at parties? [11:09pm]  
Wisteria > Couldn’t tell you. [11:14pm]  
Wisteria changed her status to “Do not disturb”  
Willow > YOU BITCH [11:14pm]

“Um,” Jeane says, startling Willow and tearing his attention away from his phone.

“Yes, darling?”

Jeane gives a sideways glance to the hallway entrance. “Um… W-We can… go,” he says.

Willow’s eyes widen. Then, he frowns, perplexed by the sudden change of opinion. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Jeane says truthfully. “B-But I… d-don’t w-want to… u-upset you… i-it’s f-f-fine, I-I can d-d-do it…”

Willow stands up, taking a step forward and turning around, hands on his hips. “You don’t have to force yourself, darling,” he says. “I’m not… upset, but I _am_ dying to get out of here. I hate to stay all cooped up while there’s a party going on without me.” He holds out his hand. “I’ll be right there with you.”

Jeane stares up at the wall behind Willow’s head, hesitantly raising one gloved hand. His multicolored eyes fall to where Willow’s hand is waiting, tentatively reaching out and wrapping his fingers around Willow’s hand. Willow pulls him up, although he can tell Jeane does most of the work.

He watches expectantly as Jeane rises to his feet, smile vanishing and lungs ceasing to function properly as Jeane stands at his full height, almost an entire foot above him. Willow feels his face heat up as his eyes scan down Jeane’s body, lingering appreciatively along his long, slender legs.

“Wow,” Willow breathes.

“Wh-What?” Jeane asks, wrapping his arms around his torso self-consciously.

 _I want to climb you like a tree._ “You’re very… wow,” Willow says, every ounce of eloquence lost as he stares, eyes half-lidded. He takes one last, shuddering breath, crossing his arms tightly around himself before finding his composure. “I want to dance,” he says, “But I’m not… so sure it would work.”

“I-I… c-c-can’t dance,” Jeane says.

“That _is_ a problem,” Willow agrees. “You’d need to lead, anyway… Well, I guess we could always _try_ and find out.” He turns toward the entrance, grinning. “Let me teach you how to tango.”

\- ♡ -

“No, I can’t say I ever have,” Visual says, voice flat. “Or any other human being on the planet earth.”

Kyou scoffs. “Cowards,” he says disdainfully.

“Hey, how long have we been in here?” Visual asks, changing the subject.

“Dunno,” Kyou shrugs, kicking his feet.

“They’ve been in there awhile.”

“What, you think they started jacking it or something?”

“ _No_ ,” Visual says, exasperated. “I’m thinking…” He lowers his voice, signaling for Kyou to lean in closer. “I think they might be… shy, and we’re scaring them off.”

“Oh,” Kyou says. “So, what do we do?”

“I’m not sure,” Visual says slowly. “We could go wait in the hallway?”

“With _Willow?_ No way.” Kyou shudders in disgust, “Ggghhh.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I could start climbing the stalls,” Kyou suggests matter-of-factly, tilting his head in the direction of said stalls.

“That’s _sexual harassment_ ,” Visual says, appalled, shooting Kyou a shocked and offended look.

“Well I don’t know! Visual!” Kyou complains, kicking his feet harder. “What d’you want me to do, start talking to the stalls?”

“Well—I don’t know, maybe?” Visual looks away, staring down at the ground. “Do you think we should?”

Kyou raises his head up high, holding his free hand up to his mouth as he yells, “THERE ANY GHOSTS IN THIS BATHROOM?” Visual immediately slaps a hand over Kyou’s mouth.

“What are you _doing_?” Visual hisses under his breath. Kyou stares him in the eye, maintaining eye contact for several seconds before roughly swiping his tongue all over Visual’s glove, causing him to immediately pull back in disgust.

Suddenly, one of the stalls bursts open. Kyou and Visual jump, their eyes immediately darting over to the mirror in search of the source of the noise but not getting the best view of anything; none of the stalls visible in the mirror were more than a little bit open.

“It’s a _fucking ghost_ ,” Kyou whispers, sing-songing the latter half.

“Ghosts. Aren’t. _Real_ ,” Visual hisses back. “Look away.”

“Wh—“

“Pretend you’re not here to _stalk someone_ for a second,” Visual hastily whispers, annoyed. He turns toward Kyou as if he were just sitting and talking and not anxiously awaiting someone’s exit from the bathroom stall like a creepy weirdo. Kyou follows suit, but his eyes remain on the mirror, ruining the disguise for anyone looking directly at them.

They sit and wait. Minutes pass.

“Maybe,” Kyou whispers, “We should start making out—“ Visual rolls his eyes, “—so we look really inconspicuous and then they’ll come out.”

“Not on the first date,” Visual replies, watching the mirror out of the corner of his eyes.

Kyou turns towards him with stars in his eyes. “We’re dating??” He stage-whispers, awestruck.

“Ssshh,” Visual warns, and they both turn their eyes toward the sinks as a man in a pale, striped, seafoam-green cardigan and matching dress pants steps into view, hurrying towards the sink with stilted movements. He keeps his head hung low, fluffy strawberry-blonde hair hanging in his face. Stopping in front of the middle sink, he turns on both temperature faucets and splashes water on his face, scrubbing around his eyes in particular.

“What do we do?” Kyou whispers to Visual, causing the man at the sinks to visibly tense. “ _Shit._ ”

“Good job, Kyou,” Visual hisses.

The man at the sink quickly shuts the water off and whirls around, leaning back on the sink with one arm raised defensively. Kyou and Visual stare, transfixed, at his large olivine eyes, soft yet masculine face, and cheeks clustered with cute little freckles. His fluffy hair frames his face, a fringe covering his nose entirely, making it a tad difficult to see his face in general.

“Adorable,” Visual whispers in awe. Kyou turns to him to catch him looking star struck, cheeks a touch pinker than before.

“Please leave me alone,” the man says, unfocused eyes switching between the two boys at random. There’s fear in his tone, but a defiant anger in his eyes.

Kyou and Visual look at each other in confusion. “Uh,” Visual starts, “We’re sorry we followed you, we just…”

“Yeah!” Kyou interjects. “We were just! Looking for our other partner, y’see!” Kyou holds up his necklace.

The man squints with unfocused eyes. Looking down, he picks up his necklace, holding the blue and purple crystals _very_ close to his face.

“Th…” he starts, voice turning incredibly quiet and meek, “Th… Th-This is you…?”

The two boys nod in unison, before Visual thinks to add a, “Yeah, that’s us. Probably…”

“My name’s Kyou!” Kyou loudly announces, startling everyone in the room. He jumps to his feet, dragging Visual with him. “I’m the purple one!”

“O-Oh,” the man says softly, barely audible, as Visual’s hand connectes with his own face with an audible _smack_.

“Kyou, indoor voice,” Visual hisses, dragging his hand down his face. Afterwards, he faces the blonde, smiling softly. Kyou resists the urge to snicker at the way his eyes sparkle, love-struck, as he looks at him. “My name is Yun. The, um, blue one.” A beat passes before he tacks on, “Oh, but you can call me Visual.”

The blonde blinks, appearing surprised all of a sudden. “V-Visual?” he stutters, halfway between shocked and horrified. He covers the lower half of his face in his hand, averting his eyes. Kyou and Visual turn to look at each other questioningly.

“Did you do something to him, or something?” Kyou asks.

“No…?” Visual says, sounding uncertain. “I’ve never met him before.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Kyou says, a touch too loud, stepping forward without relinquishing Visual’s hand. The blonde’s eyes snap up, searching blindly for the source of the noise, settling in the general direction of Kyou.

“Wait,” Visual says, tugging back on Kyou’s hand. He turns to the blonde, “Are you supposed to be wearing glasses?” Kyou glances curiously back at Visual, turning to stare into the blonde’s unfocused eyes.

The blonde stares down at the ground with glassy eyes. “Y-Yeah,” he says softly.

“Where are they?” Visual asks gently. “…Did you lose them?”

“I-I…” The blonde glances down at his pendants. Two blurry orbs of light sat against his chest. He looks back up, squinting painfully in the general direction of the two boys before him. “S-Someone t-t-took them.”

Kyou and Visual glance at each other. “Who did?” Kyou asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” the blonde says, voice broken as though he were on the verge of tears. Kyou reaches out instinctively, forgetting all about his hold on Visual’s hand in favor of rushing forward to comfort him.

“No no no, don’t cry,” he says sympathetically, placing both hands on the blonde’s arms comfortingly. Visual watches on, surprised. The blonde looks up at Kyou, struggling to adjust his eyes to the sight of Kyou’s face. “It’s okay. We could… try to get them back for you. Right, Visual?” Kyou turns back to look at Visual, who gives him a conflicted look and a shrug. Kyou pouts at him. “ _Right,_ _Visual?_ ”

“We don’t know who took them, remember?” Visual points out. “How are we supposed to find them?”

“Th-They were boys,” the blonde says. “But th-they s-snuck up on me… I-I didn’t see them.”

“I’ll buy you a different pair,” Visual says. The other two both turned to look at him in shock. “…Wh… What?”

“Well well well, Moneybags-san,” Kyou says teasingly. “Will you buy me a new car too?” Visual narrows his eyes at Kyou.

“Glasses aren’t _that_ expensive,” Visual says.

“Um…” the blonde starts, gaining the attention of the other two, “Uh… I-I… I h-have contacts… b-back at the, um, m-my dorm…” He stares down at the ground uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you wear those?” Visual asks.

“Megane kink,” Kyou whispers, pulling his arms back and winking at Visual, who rolls his eyes.

“I… th-thought… I th-thought that you, um, I mean, m-my…” he looks down at his necklace. “I w-wanted you, um, y-you both, to see what I… r-really look… like… um…” his voice trails off, becoming barely audible as he says, “D-Does that make sense…”

Kyou stares at him, astonished. “Th-That’s so…”

“…cute,” Visual finishes. They turn to look at each other with near identical looks of awe.

“R-Really…?” the blonde asks, bewildered.

“What’s your name?” Visual asks suddenly.

“O-Oh,” the blonde says, looking up in surprise. “Um… S-Saga.” He looks back down at the floor. “M—…My friends call me something else though…”

“What do your friends call you?” Kyou asks, curious.

“Um,” Saga begins, leaning his head forward just enough so that his hair hid his face better. “…Oshare,” he mumbles near-silently.

While Visual nods in understanding, committing it to memory, Kyou’s eyes widen, glancing wildly between the other two. Visual notices and asks, “What?”

“Oshare and Visual?” Kyou says, as if it should be obvious. Visual stares at him, perplexed, while Oshare slumps forward, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, cheeks turning a bright reddish-orange. Kyou turns back to Oshare, “You _know_ , right?”

“Y-Yeah…” He mumbles, embarrassed.

“Is this some Bonnie and Clyde thing that I don’t know about?” Visual asks.

“Visual kei? Oshare kei? They’re j-rock subgenres, Visual,” Kyou explains, as if Visual should already know.

“I’ve… never heard of ‘oshare kei’,” Visual says, ashamed to admit that he doesn’t know something.

“They’re like visual kei, but…” Kyou turns to Oshare with a devilish grin. “Cuter.”

Oshare shields his face with one of his arms, making an embarrassed whining sound.

“Oh,” Visual says. “That’s kind of cool, then. We match.” He smiles softly, oblivious. Kyou snickers, refusing to tell a puffed-up Visual why, before turning back to Oshare, who looks ready to melt into the floor. Kyou folds his arms behind his head, smirking.

“Let’s go back to the dessert table,” he says, not noticing the way Oshare cringes at the suggestion. Visual, however, notices it with a look of concern.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Visual tells Kyou, much to his chagrin. “We can go find somewhere to sit and chat, though. Between the three of us, I think we’ll find plenty to talk about.” Kyou smiles and nods, and they both turn to Oshare. “Can you see well enough to find your way around?”

Oshare looks around the room. “Sort of,” he says.

“I can hold your hand,” Kyou pipes up. He gives a catlike grin, raising his hand high up in the air, “I volunteer to be in the middle!” Visual crosses his arms and shakes his head, but lets out an amused huff nonetheless.

Kyou holds out a hand for Oshare, who squints down at it. He reaches out, slowly, placing his hand somewhere in Kyou’s hand’s general direction. Kyou completes the gesture for him, wrapping his slender fingers around Oshare’s smaller hand, before holding out a hand for Visual. The redhead feigns annoyance, but grabs on anyway. Kyou excitedly swings their hands like a pendulum, momentarily throwing Oshare off-balance.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Kyou turns to Visual and says, “Lead the way, boss.”

Together, the three of them wander out into the hallway, Kyou pointing out Willow’s absense. He begins making a lewd joke only to remember Oshare’s presense, hesitating for so long that the comedic timing is ruined and he has to move on. Visual squeezes his hand to show his condolences.

They make their way out to a section of tables without many people nearby when Kyou lifts his and Oshare’s hands suddenly, pointing to a nearby table. “Hey, that’s my brother!” he announces proudly. “HEY KYOUYA!!” he yells, causing both his partners _and_ several nearby bystanders to flinch.

Several tables over, Kyouya sighs heavily, slowly lowering his chopsticks and turning just enough to spot Kyou in the background, holding up both his hands. Kaname turns too, curious, smiling and giving the humble trio a small wave. However, Kyouya focuses entirely on the people on either side of his younger brother with a critical eye.

Eventually, after Visual has waved to the distant couple, he directs Kyou and Oshare over to the nearest empty table. This time, Oshare is positioned in the center, with Kyou holding his hand to guide him and Visual pulling out a chair for him.

“I can’t let you upstage me the _whole_ night,” Visual explains as Kyou grins mockingly at the gentlemanly gesture. Visual takes his seat to Oshare’s right, leaning forward on his arms. Oshare places both hands in his lap, hands shaking slightly, skin tingly and warm. Kyou props his head in his hands, gazing at Oshare like one would at a particularly cute dog.

“Now we need to play more twenty questions,” Kyou says. “Or thirty questions, I guess. Because. Three.”

Visual sighs. “Because the first one went so well,” he intones.

“I bet _Oshare_ would answer my questions,” Kyou says defiantly.

“Do _not_ go asking him about his… Don’t,” Visual warns.

Oshare stares down at the table cloth, eyes half closed, feeling unusually sweaty and warm. He remains silent as his two partners bicker, trying hard not to let him in on whatever inappropriate thing they’d talked about earlier. Subtly, he glances between the two, lamenting the fact that he can’t make out their faces from this distance.

“I’m going first,” Kyou announces. “Then Oshare, then Visual. And everyone has to answer every question, even if they were the one to ask!”

“I don’t wanna know how big your _thing_ is,” Visual says flatly. Oshare stifles a giggle. _Thing_.

“You will, one day,” Kyou says, winking flirtatiously. “First question! What… is your favorite… _drink_.” He winks.

“Why did you say it like that,” Visual asks flatly, unamused.

“Answer the question, Visual,” Kyou challenges.

“Fine. Strawberry milk.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kyou says. Visual huffs. “I like maple syrup.”

“That is _not_ a beverage,” Visual says.

“It is if you’re not a _coward_ ,” Kyou exclaims, slamming his fists down on the table. “ _Although_ I won’t turn down some hot chocolate.” He turns to Oshare, a sparkle in his eye. “What about you?” Oshare looks up, confused and slightly flustered.

“Uh,” Oshare starts. “I… uh… I-I like… milk…?”

“Of course you do, kitten,” Kyou says affectionately, reaching out to pet him and ruffling up his fluffy blonde hair. Oshare’s face heats up on contact, both hands reaching up to bat Kyou’s hand away instinctively, but he quickly decides against it. He sets his hands back down in his lap, staring down at the table as he allows himself to be pet.

“U-Um,” Oshare stutters, glancing anxiously back and forth between his partners. “I-Is it m-my turn now…?” Kyou responds in the affirmative, pulling his hand back, giggling softly as Oshare tilts slightly to his left as if lamenting the loss of pets before righting himself. “O-Okay… um…” He pauses, lost in thought. “Wh-What kind of… m-music do you like?”

“Oh!” Kyou perks up. “I like music that’s _loud_ and _fast_.”

“What, like, dubstep?” Visual asks sarcastically.

“Yeah!” Kyou exclaims enthusiastically. Visual does a double take, grimacing. “I want something that’ll get me _hyped up_ , or something with a good baseline. Like… Knife Party. Or Pendulum.”

Oshare looks up in Kyou’s general direction with a forced smile. “I-I like… um… e-electronic music,” he says. “But also, um…” He looks away, embarrassed. “I-Indie folk music… and piano ballads…”

Kyou and Visual nod in understanding. “That suits you, I think,” Visual says. “I don’t listen to a lot of music usually, but I like most classic rock and pop, sometimes. I listen to podcasts more than anything else, lately.” He leans forward. “It’s my turn now, I suppose… I’ll just ask the same question from earlier.”

“Red,” Kyou responds preemptively.

“No, not that one,” Visual says, but he smiles in amusement anyway, earning a satisfied grin from Kyou. “We’re all in uni right now, obviously, so… what does everyone study?”

Kyou re-explains his major, taking the opportunity to brag about his musical talent yet again before Oshare has a chance to speak. He stares down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. “I’m… a nutrition major. I-I thought it would be more useful than majoring in physical education, and… um,” he trails off, hesitating. “M-Music Theory was full,” he finishes quietly.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Kyou says sympathetically.

“Um,” Oshare continues, struggling to be louder, more audible, “Wh-What about you…?”

“Me?” Visual asks. Oshare nods. “I study a lot of things; physics, biology, mathematics, thermodynamics, quantum mechanics… I’m going for a PhD in chemistry, though. Unfortunately there’s not enough time in a day for much else, which is why I listen to so many podcasts while I do other things.”

Kyou slams a hand down on the table suddenly. “What the fuck! You never told me you were a _GENIUS!_ ”

Visual splutters. “I-I’m not,” he insists. “I just like experimenting. Remember?”

“’Experimenting’ my ass, I can barely remember how division works and you’re out there curing cancer or whatever,” Kyou complains.

“That’s more in the realm of biochemistry, I do more… engineering stuff as opposed to medicine,” Visual explains. “And division is really easy, you just gotta do it more often.”

“Here’s a math problem,” Kyou starts, turning fully in his chair to face Visual, “ _Your_ dick, plus _my_ a—“

Visual clears his throat loudly, gesturing with his eyes to Oshare, whose face is rapidly turning a light shade of reddish-orange beneath his dusting of freckles. Kyou inhales deeply and immediately takes it all back.

“O-Okay,” Kyou says forcefully, with mock enthusiasm. “Next question!”

\- ♡ -

“Was that your brother?”

“Unfortunately.”

“He seems very energetic,” Kaname says, smiling as he pokes his chopsticks at some of the sushi on his tray. “Have you two been sharing a dorm?”

“ _Unfortunately_ ,” Kyouya groans, earning a gentle chuckle from his dark-haired soulmate.

“…How bad is it?” Kaname asks, giving Kyouya a sympathetic look.

“Oh Gods, don’t even get me started,” Kyouya gripes, yet continues on anyway, “He snores, he blares punk music all night, he leaves his underwear all over the floor, _among other things_ , he spills soda everywhere and doesn’t even bother to clean it up, he keeps trying to sneak girls in and two nights ago, he came home drunk and immediately stripped naked and passed out on the floor.”

Kaname starts laughing, hiding his mouth behind his right-hand despite his chopsticks. “No way. Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know and don’t really want to,” Kyouya says, grimacing. He takes a bite off a crab roll to have an excuse to stop talking.

“My roommate isn’t around much,” Kaname says. “I’m not really around much, either, but, he often doesn’t come back until after I’m asleep, or not at all.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Kyouya says flatly.

“I don’t know. I think it would be nice to have someone to come home to, you know? Maybe not someone who leaves their… _unmentionables_ all over the floor, but, still.”

Kyouya hums, swallowing down the last of his crab roll. He was seriously beginning to lament the lack of a nice, cold glass of water right about now; his voice felt like it was on the verge of getting up and leaving. In the lull in conversation, they both finish off a few pieces of sushi, the silence never once feeling tense or uncomfortable.

“This is nice,” Kaname comments suddenly.

Kyouya frowns, “What is?”

“Just… this,” Kaname says, gesturing vaguely. “I feel very comfortable around you, like I don’t really _need_ to keep a dialogue going. But I suppose that’s how it works, isn’t it? The whole… _soulmate_ thing.”

“I… guess,” Kyouya says. He looks away, suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s good, though, I guess. My throat hurts.”

“It does?” Kaname asks, concerned. “Um… I don’t think they serve anything other than wine? I haven’t seen anything else, I mean. Not sure why…”

“That would just burn my throat,” Kyouya says, unaware of how quiet he sounds. Staring off into the distance, he catches a glimpse bubblegum pink in the distance—Willow. Looks like he figured out how to get his partner onto the dance floor after all…

“I don’t really like wine,” Kaname says, keeping his voice as polite as possible. He takes a bite off some more sushi, welcoming the return of the aforementioned silence. Unbeknownst to him, Kyouya stares at him with a critical eye, searching for _something_ but failing to find anything beyond a gentle acceptance of the lack of words being exchanged. He frowns, but says nothing.

Minutes pass by as they eat in silence, until eventually Kyouya finds himself tiring of the process of self-sustenance and stabs his chopsticks into the center of some rice. Sighing, he tilts his head in Kaname’s direction, noticing the man staring back at him with mild surprise.

“Are you not hungry?” he asks, to which Kyouya nods. Kaname quickly finishes off some tempura before neatly setting his chopsticks down. “Should we put this back?”

“Nah,” Kyouya says, turning his sights elsewhere. “There’s people whose job it is to clean this up. No point in rendering their jobs meaningless.”

Kaname laughs. “Are you sure that it’s not that you just don’t want to?”

Kyouya suppresses a smile, “Couldn’t be.” Leaning on his hand, he turns to sit sideways in his chair while Kaname begins tidying the tables, arranging everything onto the center tray like he’d been trained to do it. Kyouya gives him a sideways glance.

“It couldn’t hurt to make their job easier,” Kaname explains.

“Sure.”

After Kaname finishes tidying up, he leans forward on the table, arms and ankles crossed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Kyouya says, keeping an eye out on Kyou’s table.

“How aren’t you sweating, wearing that? It’s not that hot in here but I already feel like taking my jacket off.”

Kyouya shoots a sideways glance at Kaname, eyes raking over his torso and arms. “Then do it,” he says. To his surprise, Kaname easily agrees, pulling off his peacoat and folding it neatly across his lap, oblivious to Kyouya staring lustfully at the thick arms pressed tight against his patterned dress shirt.

“That’s better,” Kaname says, refreshed.

“Yeah,” Kyouya agrees breathily. Suddenly, he blurts out, “Do you work out?”

Kaname blinks, surprised. “I do, yeah,” he says. “It helps me clear my mind.”

 _Has the opposite effect on me_. “Really,” Kyouya drawls, feigning an interest as he imagines what Kaname would look like _without_ some pesky button-up in the way.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” Kyouya asks, snapping himself back to attention.

“Do you exercise at all?”

 _Don’t say something sexual, don’t say something sexual, don’t say_ —“Not at all.” _Nailed it_. “I have too many health problems, and anyway I’m too busy for it.”

“Health problems?” Kaname asks, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not _dying_ —well, not any faster than the average person,” Kyouya says dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” Kaname says, unconvinced. He quickly changes the subject, “Are you busy with school?”

“That, and juggling it with hobbies and sleep. Luckily ‘schoolwork’ and ‘hobbies’ tend to coincide, and I don’t sleep much anyway.” Kyouya leans on his hand, tilting himself more toward Kaname. “I’m tired of talking. Tell me about yourself.”

“Oh. Okay,” Kaname says, smiling softly. His red-violet eyes shift off to the left in thought. “Um… I’m taking some classes on modeling, and physical education, and also some stuff on home economics—I’d like to do some modeling one day, but so long as I’m healthy and I’m not alone, I’d be fine with anything. Um… I like exercising, and playing sports. Mainly only because it involves other people, though. Other than that, I don’t really like sports… but, I like watching movies? And reading… I prefer activities that can be done with other people, though…”

Kyouya listens intently, nodding every now and then. “Your voice is very nice,” Kyouya compliments during a lull in Kaname’s speech, causing him to blush.

“Oh… Is it? I never really thought it was anything special,” he says, humble.

“I like it…” Kyouya says, closing his eyes peacefully, nails drumming softly against the table. “Tell me about something.”

“What?”

“Whatever you want,” Kyouya says.

\- ♡ -

As midnight draws near, the band clears the stage, making way for the headmaster once more. She skips any sort of speech, instead looking out on the crowd with a hopeful smile on her face. She begins explaining the rules for exiting the auditorium; leave your necklaces at the door, don’t steal any silverware, single file, etc.

Kaname walks Kyouya to the doors, while Kyouya pretends not to notice how much his partner clearly longs to hold his hand or join arms. They leave their necklaces behind and walk outside, waiting by the stairs for Kyou to join them.

“Is it too cold?” Kaname asks, reaching for his peacoat, which he’d put back on to combat the chilly nighttime air. Unbothered, Kyouya shakes his head, tugging gently on his fur shawl for emphasis.

They sit together on the steps, a bit closer than Kyouya’s used to, but it doesn’t surprise him or really bother him, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares up at the stars in silence. The light pollution isn’t too bad here, he notes. Distracted by the beauty of the night sky and the burn of exhaustion in his eyes, he doesn’t pay Kaname any mind as the man digs around in his pants pocket.

Kaname leans forward, legs parted only slightly, mindful of whoever might want to step past him. “Oh, before I forget,” he says, regaining Kyouya’s attention. He pulls out a clean touchscreen phone with a pale pink case. Catching Kyouya’s gaze, he winks and says, “Can I get your phone number?”

Kyouya barely catches himself before he can start laughing, hastily covering his mouth and covering it up with a cough. He quickly averts his gaze. “Yeah, sure,” he says, voice perfectly level and as dreary as ever.

They exchange phones, inputting their numbers into each other’s contacts before passing them back. Kaname types something into his phone while Kyouya returns to looking at the stars, not expecting his phone to vibrate several seconds later. Thankful he hadn’t quite gotten around to putting it away yet, he flips it back open, immediately spotting a text from Kaname.

カナメ > ♡ [00:06]

Kyouya stares down at the tiny pixel heart, feeling his own gripped by some type of suffocating feeling before turning to Kaname.

“Just testing it out,” Kaname explains with a smile, cutely holding the corner of his phone against his chin. Kyouya nods in understanding, shoving down the weird feeling in his chest as if he could drown it.

Suddenly, a body slams into Kyouya, nearly knocking him down the stairs; he reaches for the railing in a panic at the same time that Kaname throws out an arm to stop him from falling. A pair of arms wrap around him, pulling him back against their body as Kyou’s head pops out next to Kyouya’s.

“Hi,” Kyou says innocently, grinning sheepishly as Kyouya glares daggers at him. Kyou forcibly perks up, turning to Kaname and grinning widely. “Hello! I’m the other one,” he says lightheartedly, swinging Kyouya back and forth, much to the tired man’s ire. Kaname laughs behind his hand at the display.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Kaname says, polite as ever. “My name’s Kaname.” He reaches out for a handshake, much to Kyou’s immediate shock; he stares, awestruck, before reaching out and completing the gesture.

Afterwards, he turns back towards Kyouya and stage-whispers, “Shit dude, your boyfriend’s a total gentleman and _super hotttt_.” This causes Kaname’s cheeks to turn a reddish-orange color as he smiles timidly behind his hand.

Kyouya, however, becomes incredibly flustered and exclaims, “He’s not my boyf—I mean, he’s not… well…” he trails off, uncertain, too embarrassed to look to Kaname for an answer. Instead he settles on, “Sh… Shut the hell up, Kyou.”

Kyou snickers, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Look, I brought mine,” he gestures behind him to where Visual and Oshare stand awkwardly at the top of the stairs.

“Hello!” Kaname says eagerly, smiling warmly up at the duo. Visual ends up smiling back instinctively, giving a friendly greeting in return. Oshare just struggles to appear smaller than he is.

Meanwhile, Kyouya just stares at both boys in total disinterest. “I’m not surprised by this outcome,” is all he says.

“I’m not surprised by _your_ outcome,” Kyou teases, giving Kaname a once-over. “Is he taller than you, too?”

“Shut. _Up_ ,” Kyouya says threateningly, while Kaname giggles in the background. Smug, Kyou grins, getting more comfortable on the step above his brother, followed by Oshare and Visual sitting down on the steps nearby. They exchange pleasantries and Kaname attempts to shake everyone’s hand, being especially gentle with Oshare’s.

“You look a little familiar,” Kaname says while looking in Oshare’s direction. “Aren’t you usually wearing glasses?”

“S-Sometimes,” Oshare says meekly. Kyou briefly explains the situation to Kaname, who looks to Oshare with concern in his eyes.

“That’s terrible,” Kaname says sincerely. “Will you be okay without them?”

“I told him I’d walk him back to his dorm,” Visual explains.

“That’s good,” Kaname says, nodding. “I’d hate for something bad to happen.”

“It’s getting late,” Kyouya sighs, staring, bored, off into the distance. He places his phone back into his pocket and gets to his feet, wiping down his kimono. With his hands on his hips, he turns to Kyou. “I’m going back to the dorm. Are you coming?”

Kyou glances back to his partners, then up at Kyouya. “In a second,” he says. Kyouya exhales deeply, turning and heading down the stairs to wait at the bottom. He turns to face Visual. “Can I call you?”

“Tomorrow, yeah,” Visual says. “I have class until two, though.”

Meanwhile, Kaname gets to his feet, dusting off his jacket. He walks down the steps to stand next to Kyouya, who spares him a sideways glance and nothing more.

Kyou nods, turning to Oshare. “I’ll see you tomorrow, kitten,” he says, leaning forward and planting a quick kiss to Oshare’s cheek. While Oshare panics, turning bright red and reaching for his cheek, Kyou sneaks a kiss to Visual’s cheek, resulting in a similar, but subtler reaction. He smiles wide at their reactions before hopping up and rushing downstairs.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Kaname asks, causing Kyou to hang back for a second.

“I’ll be fine,” Kyouya says without looking. In the background, Kyou suppresses an exhausted sigh, rolling his eyes in frustration.

“Oh. Alright,” Kaname says, disappointed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Don’t know,” Kyouya says, sounding fully disinterested.

In that moment, Kyou had never wanted to smack his brother more.

Kaname blinks, uncertain on how to react. “Um… okay,” he says slowly. Sensing the awkwardness in the air, Kyou takes the opportunity to jump up suddenly, slinging an arm across Kyouya’s shoulder.

“Boy, I am _tired_ ,” Kyou enthusiastically lies, receiving a suspicious glare from Kyouya for his efforts. “Ready to go, bro?”

“Uh... sure,” Kyouya says slowly, hissing on the “s”. He glances up at Kaname with a completely stoic expression and gives a small, half-assed wave before walking off with Kyou in tow.

Kyou looks back in time to see Kaname sigh before disappearing from view. Concerned, Kyou frowns, hurrying to keep pace with Kyouya.

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kyouya replies impassively, staring straight ahead.

Back at the stairs, Visual helps Oshare reach the bottom, pausing near Kaname, who has his arms crossed, head tilted up toward the stars. “You okay, buddy?” Visual asks, reaching out and patting Kaname on the back in a comforting gesture. Kaname stares down at him in surprise.

“Oh, uh,” he forces a smile, which seems to fool Visual, who returns with a smile of his own, “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Good,” Visual says simply. “Uh… I’ll see you around?”

“Sure.”

Visual turns to Oshare, speaking to him in a soft voice before the two wander off in the direction of the dorms. Kaname watches them leave before returning to stargazing in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote more to this but it's not much and idk if I'll post it or work on it more shruggggsssssss


End file.
